


Welcome back, Class of 1992!

by ThaFost



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Post Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-25
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 01:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/545963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThaFost/pseuds/ThaFost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phillip Coulson has been ordered to go to his Class reunion, which was fine before he was injured. Now Fury's decided he needs back up to go to his own high school reunion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And off they go

When he was thirteen, Phil knew he was gay. As the other boy started to drift away from cooties, towards girls, he didn’t see the appeal. Well, the appeal the other boys saw. Girls were nice, smelled a lot better, and generally were quite interesting. But when they got all doe eyed and leaned in close, it began to be a lot less fun.

Shuffling through high school was a trial. The school labeled him as a geek, since he was president of the Comic Book club, and in fact the only member. He was perpetually dateless, and yet had many female friends. He scraped through, surprising everyone by being quite formidable when bullies tried going toe to toe with him. Of course, when he knew that he was gay, he knew there would be a time when he’d need defensive skills, and acquired them before high school. Everyone it seemed, took a turn at trying to take him down, but it was impossible. He managed to keep up in classes even with his suspensions. He’d surprised everyone by enlisting, and after that they didn’t hear much from him.

Until they managed to track him down for their twentieth high school reunion. They didn’t know whether to be more surprised when he responded that he would attend, or rather that he replied again a few weeks later to add a plus one.

Phil sighed as he scratched at the bandage under his shirt. The incident that nearly cost him his life weeks ago was reduced to a string of stitches and covered with a bandage. Fury had initially ordered him to go present himself to his peers at the reunion. Now, on the injured list, Fury added that he had to take back up on the ‘mission’. Apparently keeping up the appearances of normality in the ages of Facebook and reconnecting with former classmates, meant he had to be what everyone there expected of him. It was a ridiculous notion that he had to take back up to the event, and even more ridiculous that he didn’t even get to pick who got assigned to the ‘team’. Somehow Fury had convinced Steve Rogers, or Captain America himself, to go along with him and pose as his boyfriend. Phil was still very confused as to how Fury had any say in what the good Captain did.

Changing his lodgings had been slightly more aggravating than it should have been. Upgrading his room to a suite the same weekend that, apparently, a convention was going on, was tricky, but eventually was done. A second flight was booked, and all was well.

Until he remembered that his mother asked him to come to dinner the last night he was there. That was going to go over _so well_.

Phil straightened his tie. In several hours he would be facing the people who tried to make him feel inferior. But he knew that he was destined for something greater. He saved the report on his computer and signed out. His flight was in a few hours, and he didn’t want to rush. There was a knock on his office door, and not surprisingly, Steve Rogers was in the doorway. He was standing casually, out of uniform, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “We have a crappy commercial flight to catch, right?” A weekend as a normal civil servant, a background that SHIELD insisted most of them take, Phil was apparently a secretary for a small government position, meant a normal flight.

Four hours in a cramped plane with a hundred plus strangers. Everyone’s favorite thing ever. Phil nodded and grabbed the suitcase of things he had prepared for this weekend, and they left his office at SHIELD headquarters to go fly out of the airport.

“Just as a note, I’m not sure if Fury’s told you, when you fly commercial now, there’s a lot of security. They can take you to a private room, and well, get a little hands on time with you. They might try to make you strip. Say no. Tell them you want me present, and I can come flash my badge around, we’re just supposed to avoid that if we can.” They were halfway through the building before Phil took a real long look at Steve. He did not seem as excited for this mission anymore, but he did look determined.

“Full body examination for a flight. Seems like an invasion of personal freedoms to me.” He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “But I’m no expert on these things. We’re ‘dating’ right?” Phil nodded. The cover story was much like real life. They met at work, Phil stumbled over his words, and Steve had decided to ask him for coffee. Well, they had gotten coffee. Steve had smuggled it into the hospital, as well as a few powdered donuts. Steve had made a few visits while Phil had been recovering. “So are we expected, to... kiss?” That was a very good question.

“I’m usually, very reserved. They probably won’t expect it of me. Casual touches, perhaps. A hand on a lower back, a squeeze of a han. I know this must be odd, but at least the incident didn’t capture any quality pictures of you, so no one will probably realize it’s you. Unless everyone brushed up on their history or comic books right before this weekend.”

“I was just going to say, I’ve only really kissed twice, so I’m probably terrible at it.” Phil nodded, but inwardly felt strange. His idol practically had no knowledge or experience in the way he was going to be implying this weekend.

The drive to the airport was quiet, except for the chatter of the radio as Steve tried to find a station that played, ‘real music’. He’d searched through all of the FM by the time they got to the airport. They checked their bags in, and made their way to security. Phil reminded Steve to not strip down, except for his shoes, if asked. They both, luckily, were waved into the metal detectors.

In their terminal, they found two seats together, and sat down. Phil pulled out his phone, checking for any last minute emergency emails while he was still on the correct coast. Sitwell wished him luck, and told him he’d better use condoms. Phil shook his head and deleted it. That was definitely not happening this weekend. Steve had managed to pull out a small sketchbook from his jacket, and began drawing the man across from them as he slept. He had a newspaper that he had been reading, from Florida, so he was presumably waiting for his second flight of the day.

Eventually they boarded. It was a fairly full flight, and a slim woman sat on the aisle, next to Phil. She seemed a little sad, to be not sitting next to Steve, but she soon buried herself in an awful book purchased hastily before take off. Or Phil assumed, by her receipt from fifteen minutes ago, that she was holding for a book mark. She hardly noticed when the steward handed out drinks, preferring to only get a snack. After they had arrived at cruising altitude, Steve put up the armrest between the two men. “I figure we should get used to the casual touches.” He said quietly. Phil nodded, pulling out the inflight crossword. They kept him quick, and it was fun just to think. He set it on the pull down tray, and went to work. A few moments later, the inner fanboy in him made himself known, Phil felt his face grow hot as Steve threaded his fingers between Phil’s own. Captain America was holding his hand.

And it was three more hours until they landed. He filled out what he could in the puzzle, and after that, Steve whispered a few choice clues, warm breath blowing across the curves of his ear. Together, they filled the last few squares that were left. Phil ate his peanuts, while talking with Steve in somewhat hushed tones, quiet as possible in the noisy cabin. They talked of novels Steve had read, which ones Phil insisted he must read. Television, of course, was something a bit more foreign. Strange strings of serial movies broadcast to everyone, but not enough viewers, and no more. Phil was still broken up over Firefly. He might have even written fanfiction. Once or twice, it wasn’t like he had a following. Not Phil. Nope.

Eventually they relaxed into each other, arms fully touching, shoulders bumping. The kind of contact you make with people when you aren’t worried about super villains. Phil decided that perhaps he should have gone to other social events that might have required back up. Clint and Natasha got to be fake married sometimes, why shouldn’t he get a fake boyfriend?

_Because you want him as a real one._

Phil banished that voice out of his head. Nope. No thinking about how the quality of this fake boyfriend would shape his future relationships. No thinking domestic thoughts about Steve dragging him to an animal shelter to get a puppy, naming it Justice or Liberty and taking her home to _their_ apartment. Definitely no thinking about that. It had been a long morning in the office, one he hadn’t been supposed to take, but he had wanted to write up his debriefing before he took this trip. Phil found himself slowly beginning to fall asleep.

And then he was awake again. Steve had tapped his shoulder when they began to make their final descent, so he could put the armrest down, and the tray tables up. Phil was slightly embarrassed by his nap, cheek pressed against shoulder, but he hadn’t drooled on Steve, so there was that. The shirt was the same blue as Steve’s eyes, and Phil wondered if that was exactly why he had worn it. It was still going to be the early afternoon when they landed trhough the magic of time zones. “After we check in, I want to show you my favorite part of the city, I’m sure if we’ll have enough time, but we’ll see. The shindig starts at eight.” There was not enough time in a year for his favorite spot in the city, but he had to go there, as he missed it terribly. It was the only thing he really missed after leaving home.

He looked out Steve’s window. Clouds. Of course, he hardly saw the city when he landed. But soon enough, he saw the town. It grew larger, until at last they settled down with a bump, and the captain came over the intercom.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Portland International Airport.”


	2. The Most Wonderful Place in Portland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which luggage is retrieved, the hotel is not quite as expected, and our boys take a side trip.

It was cloudy, but surprisingly dry in Portland. Phil’s memories of home were generally very rainy, probably because it did rain quite a bit. Or at least, the sun wasn’t out for two thirds of the year. They managed to get through the terminal to the luggage carousel with a minimum of hassle. It was fairly busy, but the throngs of people all moved the same direction, making it easy. Finding their bags was simple, and they made it to the car rental place.

“That was the ugliest carpet I’ve ever seen.”

“It grows on you.” _Like a fungus_ Phil added mentally. He picked out a small hybrid car. Not to save the environment, but because it was quieter, which was an important factor in his line of work. Now it was time for the real test. Navigating to the hotel. Portland was home to quite a few one way streets. Tapping a few buttons on his phone, he set up the GPS and handed it to Steve to direct him to the hotel.

Eventually they got to the hotel. After only a little bit of headache, and going around a few blocks. The hotel was apparently packed, as a convention was happening somewhere in town. The hotel was fully booked, according to the front desk as they signed in, and it made Phil uncomfortable. So many people to keep an eye on as well. The woman at the desk smiled, before giving them the keys. They took their luggage up to their room. Steve offered to carry Phil’s, as he was still on light duty at work, but Phil just rolled his along. After a short overly crowded elevator ride, they found Door 314 and threw the door open to their ‘Executive Suite’ to find not exactly what they had hoped for. It was a nice space, tastefully decorated. It had exactly half as many beds as they had expected, and no real room division, except for the bathroom. There was a small sitting area, including a couch, that did not infact, fold down into a sofa bed. “Well this is rather unfortunate.” Steve said, a hint of something in his voice. If Phil had to guess, he thought it was amusement.

It was one of those moments that happen all the time in situational comedies, for a defining character moment. The main lead offers to do something selfless, like get another hotel room, but all Phil could think to say was, “I’ll sleep on the couch.” Steve shook his head placing his duffel bag on the couch.

“I can’t let you get all bent out of shape for me. A king is plenty big for two, we can stick to the sides, and it will be fine.

Phil turned away from Steve, but nodded. He could feel his face heat slightly. He, technicall, would be sleeping with Captain America. But for now, he needed to calm down. He cleared his throat, trying to speak clearer, “Hey grab your coat, the best place in town’s a couple blocks away. We can walk there from here, one of the only reasons I had picked this hotel. It’s also far enough away from where we’re meeting my classmates that we shouldn’t meet them in the hallways here.” He turned back to Steve who was standing fairly close, jacket on. It was just one of those classic leather jackets he always wore, but it suited him. Steve took his hand, and laced their fingers together.  
“Lead on.”

In the streets, steve was fascinated by the people there. While New York was new and interesting, the people of Portland were something else. Phil tugged him along, until they were standing in front of a bookstore. The sign proclaimed it as ‘Powell’s’ and as they entered, Steve opened his mouth slightly in wonder. There are bookstores everywhere, but one the size of a city block were a bit harder to find. “Impressed?” asked Phil, a smile sneaking onto his face.

“Thoroughly,” Steve said slightly breathless.

After fetching a map, Phil let Steve pick out which rooms to go to. When he was younger, he spent a lot of time in the Gold Room, with the science fiction, and graphic novels, but now he really liked all of the rooms. After an hour and a half, they walked back to the hotel, new books for both of them. It was a good trip, and it hadn’t been too crowded. Phil needed to get out of his suit for the reunion, but it felt like he was giving up some of his cool factor. He rather liked his suits. Putting his suitcase up on the bed, he opened it, finding a note and an entirely different wardrobe than what he had packed.

_“Colors are your friend Phil.  
Best Wishes,  
Natasha”_

Sighing, Phil pulled out a pair of blue jeans and a red tee shirt. Rooting around, he found that the nicest thing she had packed was a sweater, but he tucked that away for Sunday dinner. Steve had looked up from his reading to look at Phil’s actions. “Natasha repacked my bag. You might check yours. I’m going to change before we go real quick.” Phil made his way to the bathroom, and shut the door behind him. Reflexively he tested the mirror for 2 way, but it was a typical mirror. He slowly unknotted his tie. He was going to see most of those people for the first time in twenty years. Except for Marissa Saunders.

They had met when her mom brought her around to his house, hoping to meet the other kids in the neighborhood. She had begged to stay when she saw his Captain America action figures. They had been inseparable after that. Every year for Halloween, they were Captain America and Bucky Barnes. She got to be captain, because she was the leader out of the two of them. They had been the kind of friends that parents eye wistfully waiting for them to get married. Unfortunately that wasn’t going to happen, not for the lack of trying, as they had tried dating several times. Phil had said, that if he was going to love a woman, it was going to be her, but it just hadn’t progressed the way she had hoped.

And it was okay with her, because the Portland Philharmonic Orchestra had offered her first chair, so now they didn’t have to bump into each other. He led SHIELD agents, and she led the cello section.

Out of everyone, she was the one who might guess about Steve, but she probably wouldn’t say anything.

Phil undid the buttons on his shirt, and looked at the bandage over the stitches. It was mostly there to keep him from scratching at it. The bandage compounded the itchiness. He didn’t mind the whole, being alive part, though. It was kind of really amazing. In those moments he’d felt like he was dying, and then suddenly he was in a hospital bed.

He slipped the tee shirt over his head gently, and continued to dress himself. Getting into the jeans was much easier. He hung his suit up, and entered the living area. Steve was entranced in his book. Phil glanced at the spine, and saw it was the historical WW2 book they had gotten. He had wanted to know _how_ they had won.

Phil watched him read for a short while, before looking at the clock. It was time to go, as they were going to provide dinner at the event tonight. He pulled a bookmark out of the captain’s bag, and placed it on the page he was reading. Steve stared at him, blue eyes confused, but he didn’t ask the obvious question, of “Why?”

“We’re going to be late if you want to finish the war tonight Cap.”

“Wars take years, and it’s _Steve_ this weekend.”

“Yessir.” Phil smiled as they packed up, and went on their way.


	3. In which, my brain goes a lot darker than I expected for this piece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil meets some classmates he remembers, and some he doesn't. Or at least ones he doesn't remember from high school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I don't know much morse code, so I don't know if it's feasible to do it in the way I have described. But, shush. It should be in italics and apostrophes rather than quotation marks.

The school’s gym is filled with half heartedly filled balloons and streamers when they show up. A banner in the front, boldly proclaiming “Welcome Back Class of ‘92.” It was obvious to Phil that the year was interchangeable. A desk filled with name badges sat in the entryway, an overly friendly woman sat at the desk. Phil walked up, Steve following him closely. She asked for his name, flicking eyes between the two of them.

“Phil Coulson and date,” her fingers searched through the stack of badges, pulling one out, extending it towards Phil. The badge had his senior portrait, which jogged her memory, and she looked back to him.

“Coulson... weren’t you Comic Book Club president?”

Phil smiled at her. “Yes. Did you know that the school gave each club a 200 dollar budget, for activities?” He took the proffered badge from her. “It bought me a lot of comics.” Phil pinned his badge to his chest. Steve shyly took a simpler one from the table that simply said, ‘The Boyfriend.’ Phil hadn’t seen his senior picture in a while. He looked small, a boy in a man’s suit. He had worn his father’s suit, it had hung unused in the closet his entire life, and it was probably still there, gathering dust. Leading Steve into the gym, Phil scanned in it’s inhabitants. There were somewhat familiar faces spread throughout the gym. Steve picked up a small slip of paper from the closest table.

“Jennifer Hampton-Stone.”

It had been twenty years, but they still expected them to follow assigned seating? The two of them said polite hellos to mingled groups, trying to find their seats in the gym. Eventually they had made it across the entire room, to a table on the far side. It was good that they were going to have a catered dinner soon, as Phil was feeling quite hungry. At the table, Phil noted the other people set around them, Marissa was to Phil’s right, thankfully there would be someone appeasing at their table. Unfortunately, Sawyer McKenna a football player, that had tried to take Phil down in school was at the table, on the left of Steve, as well as a card marked ‘arm candy,’ the sixth chair had a blank card. None of the others had quite arrived, and so they talked a few moments, waiting. Marissa waved, before coming over, looking gorgeous as usual. her blonde hair was shorter than he had seen it last, bangs brushed away from her eyes, and above her shoulders in the back. Her dress was red, to distance herself from her normal orchestra black, Phil assumed. She sat down on Phil’s side, smiling widely.

“Who’s this Phil? I didn’t think you’d have someone so soon, or I would have tried harder to find a boyfriend.” Marissa joked. Steve extended his hand, shaking hers in a greeting.

“This is my boyfriend Steve, Steve this is Marissa, she plays cello for the Portland Orchestra.” Phil told him.

“Oh, you’re the cellist!” Steve said, before clamping his mouth shut and drawing his hand back. “I mean, Tony had said, there was a cellist... when, you. When you were injured.”

“You asked _Tony_ if I was single?”

“You were injured Phil?” Marissa asked, and Phil felt himself blush a bit, as he turned back to her.

“It wasn’t too bad. Just an onsite injury, so we had to reset the counter. We had racked up nearly 1500 days without time lost.” Steve snorted. SHIELD’s counter never made it past 10.

“Of course I had asked, I didn’t know... if we needed to call anyone.” Fury had told them all that Phil was dead, but now he was here. Across the wood floor, Phil saw a face that seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place it. He dug through his memories, as Steve and Marissa talked. The man’s skin was tan, and he sat next to a couple, obviously here alone. Steve was showing Marissa his sketchbook, when he flipped to the sleeping man in the airport terminal. Phil looked back to the man across the gym. It was him. Phil knew that in his line of work, there were no coincidences. As Steve leaned farther into Phil’s space, showing Marissa more drawings, Phil had the urge to kiss the man’s cheek directly in front of him. Instead, he wrapped an arm around the man’s chair. Seeing the man talk animatedly about something that made him happy, made him think of his first awkward conversation with him. As he remembered wistfully, a tall proud figure, tugging along a woman by his crooked elbow, came to stand at the table.

“McKenna.”

“Figures you’d be gay.” Steve was on his feet as soon as those words left the mouth attached to such a stupid brain. Time had, unfortunately, been kind to Sawyer. His bright eyes stared deep into Steve who was a pillar of muscle.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asked, turning to block Phil’s view of Sawyer.

“No one straight, wouldn’t put a ring on blondie’s finger,” Sawyer said, presumably about Marissa. Phil turned to see her roll her eyes. Steve’s ego satisfied, he sat back down. Sawyer sat and his ‘arm candy’ took the seat next to him. There was an empty chair between the women, but they seemed to be taking stock of each other. Sawyer held out a hand, Vanna White style. “Coulson, Marissa, boyfriend, this is Cathy, she’s my date for tonight.” Steve introduced himself, and Phil gave a half hearted wave. She didn’t really seem to care to be there. As she looked back to Marissa, she looked thoughtful.

“Do I know you?” Cathy asked when, at last, the stare reached maximum awkward levels.

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced, but I play in the Portland Orchestra.” Cathy’s face lit up at that piece of information.

“You played a wonderful Strong last week.” The women began to talk classical music, and Phil found himself fingering shapes on Steve’s upper arm. It hadn’t been intentional at first, but now he found himself interested in if Steve was paying attention to the conversation. He tapped, in morse code, a stupid joke he’d heard once. When Steve cracked a smile, Phil figured he was listening to him.

“So how did you two meet?” Sawyer asked, turning away from the women.

“We work together. After a few failed conversations I asked him to get coffee.” Steve told him, rehearsing the story, Steve put a hand on Phil’s knee patting gently. First once, then again, oh. Phil ciphered out his question. _‘Is this okay?’_ Phil tapped a quick yes.

“Apparently I’m awful at talking to people in general, as I could hardly talk to Steve. It made his debriefing difficult.”

“Pants off on a coffee date? Bold.” Steve was a very good blusher.

“No, I had to trade some information with him for work. I stumbled over my words.” To Steve he tapped _’Breathe.’_ It would be problematic if he passed out in the middle of this evening, although it might save them from more of this.

Dinner was served then, a simple affair, they had opted for the nice burger option. Toasted buns, a garlic sauce and some almost fancy cheese. It kept them with full mouths most of the dinner. There was a small level of chatter, the story was rehashed for the women, who aww’d. Marissa had seemed proud of him, finding a boyfriend like she had urged him when she left back to Portland last. Eventually, they were finished with their dinners, and they returned to mingle a bit. Taking Steve’s hand, he wandered a little, making small talk, but keeping an eye on the airport man. No matter where they went in the gym, he looked no closer or farther away. Phil managed to relay to Steve, while ignoring an old female friend’s shocked tangent about his lack of disclosure over his preferences, as if it were her business, about the man. Steve flipped through the sketchbook, it was definitely the same man. Closer to 11, they lost sight of him.

Until they turned around and nearly bumped into him.

“Phil Coulson? Ronnie Aston, y’know, from Comic Book Club?” Phil’s smile began to feel painful on his face. When he had been in High School, it took ten ‘interested’ students and a teacher to start a club. Marissa was too busy with sports and her classwork to join him, so he had invented nine students. Managed to even convince people they were real. They were listed in every year’s ‘Not Pictured’ list in the yearbook. One of them had been called Ronnie Aston. He shook the man’s hand firmly.

“Been a long time Ronnie,” With his left hand still in Steve’s, he quickly tapped, _’Imposter.’_ to Steve. “This is my boyfriend, Steve. Steve, Ronnie.” Phil’s hand tightened around Steve’s worriedly. “What are you up to now Ronnie?” The man set off on a cover story, explaining some horrible businesses he’d worked for.

_’Not Ronnie?’_

_’There is no Ronnie,’_

Ronnie turned the question back onto Phil. “I’m a civil servant, a minor role to be played in government work, nothing too exciting.”

_’Liar,’_

_’Shush,’_

“Is that where you picked up morse code?” Phil froze, hands still entwined. Ronnie played with the lapels of his blazer, revealing the butt of a gun. “I think the three of us should go talk elsewhere.” Phil nodded, but Steve pulled Phil slightly behind him. “Your _boyfriend’s_ quite attached, Agent Coulson. Call off your back up or it’s going to get messy.” Steve continued to stand in front of Phil defensively, but he less hostilely. “Great, let’s do coffee.” The three of them strode from the room, momentarily distracted by people saying farewells, until they got to the parking lot. Ronnie led them to a black sedan. They got into the backseat, and Ronnie locked the doors. “So Steve, are you new to SHIELD, we don’t seem to have your personnel files? A.I.M. would be very sad to discover they aren’t up to date on this sort of a thing.”

Phil fiddled in his pocket, muting his phone before dialing his emergency number for Fury. It was Fury’s idea for him to be here, and it was his fault that he wasn’t allowed to bring any weapons. Steve smiled, putting a hand on Phil’s thigh. “Sir, I don’t work for SHIELD, I’m Phil’s boyfriend.”

Ronnie turned around to look at him. “Like I’m buying that the two of you are a couple. Right. Coulson can’t hold down a relationship, how did he snag you?” Phil felt himself bristle a little. Steve squeezed his knee, and Phil hoped to whatever deities that didn’t feel like destroying New Mexican cities that Fury was listening right now.

“I went after him. What is AIM up to, kidnapping us?”

“Not you, just him. You’re expendable, unless of course, you’re actually a SHIELD agent.” Ronnie pulled his gun back out, pointing it at Steve. “Now let me ask you again, why don’t we have a SHIELD file on you? We should have them all.”

Steve swallowed thickly, and shook his head. Phil couldn’t let him die in a backseat of a car while back up was scrambling to assemble. “Tell him Steve. Just tell him. You’re the better bargaining chip anyway.” The enemy’s eyes perked up at this. He looked between the two of them.

“Tell me what?”

“I’m nobody Phil. Just a kid from Brooklyn. Your boyfriend. Nobody.” Steve was taking this undercover stuff serious, but Phil didn’t know if he could handle point blank chest shots.

“You’re Captain America, Steve, don’t you realize they’d take you over me, anyday?” Phil laid a hand on Steve’s face turning it towards him and away from their captor. “Tell Fury, that I’m sorry I broke your cover.” 

Steve frowned, “Why won’t you tell him yourself?”

“Kidnappers, only really need one victim to work.”


	4. Chapter 4

Nick Fury was having an awful weekend. Being woken up on a secure line at two in the morning to listen to your best agent calmly talking to a kidnapper did not rank high on anyone’s weekend wishlists. Scrambling agents on the ground on Portland to find them before the situation spiraled out of control was a tall order. Thankfully Fury had access to the GPS in Coulson’s phone. This information pointed his agents to the fact that he was unmoving somewhere near the high school. The sound didn’t have a mass of background chatter, leading to the conclusion that they weren’t in the gym, but perhaps the parking lot. He waited to hear back from his agents as he listened in on the conversation on the phone.

“Tell Fury...”

“I’m listening Coulson, give me something I can use.” There was some muffled sound as the phone shifted in a pocket.

“...your cover.” Fury sighed waiting to hear from the SHIELD agents who had arrived on the scene.

“Why won’t you tell him yourself?” Poor Captain America didn’t see his worth compared to Phil’s in AIM’s eyes.

“Kidnappers, only really need one victim to work.” Nick sighed, holding out for good news.

“Touching, Agent Coulson, but very true.” There was the unmistakable, if far off, sound of a gun cocking. “Kiss your spangly boyfriend goodbye.” Fury swore, urging the rescue team to hurry up with the rescuing. 

“I’m sorry,” Coulson whispered.

“So am I,” whispered Fury. The phone gave more rustled sounds, Fury assumed, because of a last kiss. A first kiss really. Fury felt strange listening in on this, until he heard the sound of breaking glass and angry SHIELD agents. He sighed happily before a shot rang out.

 

Phil was in shock. He was supposed to come out to his high school reunion, show off a fake boyfriend, have dinner with his mom, and go home. Being kidnapped was not on the docket. Neither had been a verging on make out with Captain America to save Phil’s life. Now here they were. Phil knew there was going to be a mountain of paperwork. He was just glad that the agent who rescued them was only grazed by the shot the AIM agent let off, he assumed, accidently.

He was a little less glad that it had been Barton, and that he had seen Steve and him kissing. While a medic patched him up, Barton continued to smirk at Phil, a look that he knew well. 

It had been strange when ‘Ronnie’ had told them to kiss. Phil had apologized, because he couldn’t bring himself to do it in that moment. They had agreed not to, and Phil wasn’t sure how Steve would feel if he changed his mind then. Steve had smiled at him, and used a hand to tilt his head up, the other one on Phil’s waist, effectively blocking his phone. Steve had leaned in, unsure of himself, but Phil had closed the last of the distance after a moment.

To keep their cover, not for any desire of his own, or at least that’s what he’d continue to tell himself. He should have been shot in a few moments, and it would have been far better to die with a kiss fresh on his lips. But then Clint had bashed in the window, and the gun had gone off. He quickly subdued the agent with some small stunning device. Phil had relaxed into the back seat, until he had seen the blood on Barton’s shoulder.

Now, however, he was trying to get the concept that he had kissed Captain America through his brain. Not only had he kissed him, but it had saved his life, or rather prolonged the killing long enough for backup to arrive. Barton still wore his “I’m telling Tasha about this” look, even as he spoke to Fury on his headset. Phil turned to Steve to apologize. “I’m sorry for overstepping our set guidelines.”

Steve flashed him a puzzled look. “Do you mean the kiss? Because that was... fine.” Steve looked a little uncomfortable. “It’s getting late, we should head back to the hotel.” 

“Uh, yeah. We should.” Phil waved to Clint, who just waved him off, smile still firmly spread across his thin lips.

The hotel was dark when they got back to it. Most of the residents had gone to bed. The elevator was empty, and so was the hallway before they got back to their room. Phil draped his jacket over one of the chairs. It had been a tremendously long day, and he was ready for a shower and a nice bed. Rifling through his bag, he drew up short on finding the pajamas he had packed, finding instead a pair of sleep pants with eagles on them. Natasha had obviously decided to shake up his nights, or maybe they were Hawkeye’s idea. Maybe that’s the real reason he was smiling. Phil had just gotten a new good set for this trip, gray and classic. He looked at the pajamas, wondering if it was about SHIELD’s logo, or rather the American bird. They appeared to be his size, which was rather fortunate. He took them reluctantly, telling Steve he was going to take a shower, the other man had his nose in a book already, and he nodded acknowledgement. Heading into the bathroom, Phil flicked the lights on in the room. Shutting the door behind him, he let himself give into the stress of the day. Turning the knob, he set the water to fairly hot, not scalding, but fairly close to the red side diagram. Letting his hand feel the spray as it warmed, he disrobed quickly and got into the shower. Relaxing into the spray, Phil let out a hiss of pleasure. He noted, that he had forgotten about the dressing on his chest. It would have to be changed, but he had packed supplies. The shower was brief as was efficiently possible. He stripped the dressing, and toweled off gingerly. Stepping into the sleep pants, he discovered they did infact fit. Toweling his hair, he stepped back into the living space. Steve was still reading, still intently following the lives of millions of soldiers involved in a war he didn’t see finished. The medical kit Phil had packed, made it past Natasha’s meddling hands. He cut a piece of the gauze, and got out the tape. Carefully, he cut pieces of the tape, and applied the dressing to the area. It was a little less deft than normal, but passable. Phil looked up from his handiwork, and he found Steve watching him. They made brief eye contact before Phil padded over to the bed. “Do you have a side you prefer?” He turned back to Steve who was looking at him with wider eyes.

“Your... nevermind. Can I sleep by the window? It’s not too much of a view, but I’d still like to see the city in the morning light,” Steve replied. Phil nodded, walking over to the opposite side of the bed.

“That’s fine with me, I’m going to turn in.” He waved, before feeling weird, and turning it into a head scratch at the last moment. Steve hadn’t seemed to notice, and Phil climbed into his side of the bed, sinking into it’s fluff and drifting off to sleep.

He woke for a brief moment when Steve came to bed later, but long enough to see the man’s bare back as he sat on the edge of the bed, bathed in the moonlight. Phil’s past in the military meant that he still had trouble sleeping through small movements in bed, but he knew he was safe to drift back off. So he did.

In the morning, Phil was on his back, eyes fixed to the ceiling. He didn’t want to confirm how close his childhood crush was. Warmth from Steve’s body, seemed to be heating Phil’s side. Savoring the moment, he eventually got out of bed. As he turned back, he saw Steve laying on his side, curled up facing where Phil had been sleeping. He pushed the image away as he did his morning rituals. Dressing in the clothes Natasha had sent was faster today, because he was resigned to do it. A blue polo was not his usual, but a step up from the plain tee shirt. When Phil walked back into the living space, he saw Steve sprawled over the bed. He had uncurled himself, but now he lay diagonally across as much of the bed as he could cover. Phil glimpsed smooth bare shoulder blades above the blanket’s reach. It was early, but Phil was sure breakfast was being served. He should head down to that, instead of being present while the good Captain slept again. Yet he couldn’t stop himself from looking at the glimpse of skin there. Phil moved to the bed, and lightly tugged the edge of the blanket up to cover the distraction. Moving away, he put on his coat, and looked for the key card. He saw it on the table, and moved to grab it, but he was stopped by Steve’s voice.

“Where are you going?” Phil paused, his fingers curling around the key card. Looking up, he caught sight of Steve, who was sitting up now, blanket pushed back. Holding his gaze steady, he focused on Steve’s eyes.

“Breakfast. They have breakfast in the lobby.” Phil wasn’t sure why he was so nervous again. He’d held the man’s hand yesterday, he should be fine with a little bare skin. 

Steve slipped out of bed, stretching, his boxers slung on a little low on his hips. “Give me ten, I don’t want you going alone.” Phil nodded, and Steve pulled out some clothes from his duffel bag that looked like he had packed them.

One of the books Phil had bought from Powell’s was sitting on one of the chairs, so he settled in to read as Steve hit the shower. The book had been bought on the whim, the cover being of two male spies, painted in an almost romance novel style. Praises were on the back cover, but all together it felt as if the book was a Sharktopus of a novel waiting to be read. Every once and awhile, Phil had a contest with himself to find the worst book he could and still finish the thing. So now he was going to read a novel based on work so close to his own. He managed to get to a part where the main spy and his back up had just been captured when Steve emerged from the bathroom, hair damp. Slipping a bookmark into the pages, Phil shut the book and set it onto the table. Phil buttoned his coat, and slipped the key card into his pocket. Steve stood at the door peering out of the peephole. “Do you really think they’ll try again so soon?”

“Surely AIM isn’t SHIELD’s only enemy?”

Well, no, AIM was not the only enemy, but probably one of the only ones stupid enough to try and kidnap Phil. If there had not been so many potential casualties at the reunion last night would have gone differently. Steve held out his hand, and Phil took it. Steve opened the door into the hallway, and their exit into their cover. They hallway was empty, but the elevator wasn’t. A father and his three sons were heading down to breakfast together. The youngest one was playing with an Iron Man action figure, because Stark had decided to make them, using ‘repulsor beams’ on his under enthusiastic brothers. “Die alien scum! PEW!”

“I told you, I get to be Captain America. He’s the best. I’m not an alien. Dylan’s an alien,” The middle son said, before tugging on his dad’s hand. “Dad, d’ya think New Captain America is like the old one? Could he be the old one?”

The dad laughed, and ruffled his son’s hair. “Kid, I don’t know, but he’d be older than me. Older than Grandpa.” Smiling, Phil turned to look at Steve, whose face was cheery as ever. The oldest boy was about twelve, and he yawned loudly, stretching his arms in the metal box, nearly bumping into Phil. At last they were on the ground floor, and they emptied out, and the six of them all headed to breakfast.

The buffet held the typical foods, pancakes, cereals, eggs, bacon, oatmeal. Fruit was plentiful, and Phil couldn’t lie, kidnappings made him hungry. He stacked his plate with a few pancakes, skipping the healthier foods for once, which gained him a few admonishing looks from Steve. They found a table, and sat down facing each other. Before a conversation was struck up, however, Sawyer slid into a chair at the table. “G’mornin’ boys.”

Phil was almost glad to have someone to distract him from Steve this morning. Sawyer set into his bacon laden plate with little grace. “Where’s Cathy today?” Steve asked, peeling an orange. 

Struggling with a bite, Sawyer replied, “She’s a local, so I’m guessing at her house.” Steve nodded before glancing at something behind Phil distractedly. Phil turned around to see Captain America eating breakfast, or rather a very good cosplayer in town for some convention. Had the real deal not been directly in front of him, Phil would have told the cosplayer he was doing fine work. Looking around, Phil found the family from the elevator. The boys had seen the man, and all three were watching him in rapt attention. Even their father looked a little awed. “Hey that guy almost looks like Captain America.” Sawyer said, pointing at him.

“Almost?” Steve asked curiously.

“If he were the real Captain, the building would have to be on fire or something.” Phil let a breath out easily and dug back into his pancakes. “did you guys hear about the shooting at the reunion last night?”

“We went home a little early,” Steve said cautiously. He peeled an orange segment off, putting it on Phil’s plate before continuing. “Any details?”

“Oh there was some junkie in the parking lot, and he tried shooting a cop when he came over to the car. Cop’s fine.” Phil smiled, it wasn’t everyday he heard someone report a cover story, not knowing the actual truth behind the situation. Last night, Steve and he must have gotten out of sight early enough that no one linked them to the shooting. He finished his bite of pancake, and then ate the orange segment. It would make his doctor back home happy to hear. No sooner than he had put it into his mouth, than Steve popped another segment onto his plate. Exchanging a glance, Phil noticed that Steve had only removed two sections from the orange in question. Natasha must have put him up to it. “Stop giving your boyfriend bedroom eyes.” Steve blushed, and Phil turned to look at Sawyer. A smirk sat, stretched across his lips. “You had enough time for that last night.” If this was the start of the day, the softball tournament was going to be unbearable with him.

“Steve, I forgot to ask, are you any good at softball? The planners decided we should make a few teams and have a tournament before we get too old to enjoy our bodies.” Phil reflexively looked at where the stitches were on his chest. He was definitely out for the games today.

“I’m okay, but I’d rather watch with you. You’re still not 100 percent after... the incident.”

“Being vague is as fun as other things,” Sawyer said, still with bacon on his plate. “Well too bad I guess, I was hoping I could beat you.” They finished their meals, before heading off to fields rented for the reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in this little world, the Avengers/SHIELD haven't told everyone that Captain America is Steve, thawed from the ice. The public just thinks America got a new Captain for now.


	5. The part where Phil's book isn't what he signed up for

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few more twists, but we're almost towards the home stretch!

There was a bit of a chill as they sat on the bleachers. Thankfully the cold metal was dry, which didn’t add to their discomfort. The park they were at had several baseball fields reserved for the reunion. Steve had picked to watch the game between what was left of the men’s baseball team versus the women’s softball team. Not that any of them had died, but rather not all of them had come. Rubbing his hands together, Phil tried to warm them against the morning chill. Leaning over, Steve took both of Phil’s hands in his own, sharing his warmth. The other man’s hands were soft against the back of Phil’s hands. “You should buy gloves,” Steve told him softly. The players were nearly ready to begin on the field. They stretched themselves, and Phil tried not to let his gaze linger too much on them during these moments, turning instead to glance at Steve. Their hands were between the two of them, resting on both of their legs. When Phil looked to Steve’s face, he met and held his gaze, as the other man had already been turned towards him. Somewhat reflexively, Phil found himself leaning into the other man’s space, angling his face upwards, before remembering his place. He stopped, faces at an awkward distance apart.

“Maybe I should get gloves,” was the first thing that sprang from his lips. It was a cannonball of tactlessness cutting through any perceivable tension, and replacing it with a slight hurt look on Steve’s face, who relinquished his hold on Phil’s hands, sliding his back onto his lap. That had been the wrong thing to say, but it did make him back out of the uncomfortable ‘kiss zone’ as his mother had called it.

“Phillip, it’s the zone where, almost anyone in it, is going to kiss you.” She had then made a sports analogy but phil had stopped listening. Besides, Phil wasn’t very good with sports analogies.

The teams took their places, men in the outfield, women lining up to bat. A few of the members of the women’s team had played college ball, so it was destined to be an interesting match. Black Sabbath poured out of Steve’s pocket, shocking both of them to an extent. Rolling his eyes after a moment, Steve answered his cell phone. “Tony, I’m busy. And I’m on the west coast... What do you mean, you broke Bruce? I’m coming home tomorrow, don’t break him permanently... Get Natasha to fix him... No, Agent Coulson can’t fix him.” Phil turned to look at Steve, who had a little pink in his cheeks. “Because he is also on the west coast.” Phil smiled, and Steve blushed more, turning away to face the game, there were two runners on base, on second and third. “Would you like him to yell at you for being an idiot? That can be arranged shortly.” Phil slid his phone out of his pocket. In the ensuing madness of the night before, he hadn’t ended the call with Fury... But apparently neither had Fury. Strange... Phil ended the call. “Oh I’m sure he’d love to take time away and scold you. Right Phil?”

“Yes.” Phil could hear Tony’s voice as it became elevated in volume. Apparently he hadn’t heard the whispers about the not-so-secret mission. Most of the SHIELD agents he dealt with had been smiling at him the past week whenever he saw them. Steve was back to having his face under control as he listened to more of Tony’s prattle. The women scored two runs on a nice fly ball that escaped the outfielders long enough. Soon, Steve’s arm wrapped around Phil’s back, hand resting on Phil’s hip.  
“Tony I’m fine. Stop showing nightmare inducing horror movies to Bruce, and then expecting him to work with you the next morning. Especially when you dress like the monster.” Steve ended his call, and tucked his phone into his pocket. “Sometimes I wonder why that man has friends. And then I remember New York, how he would have died to save the people there.” Phil saw his tongue dart out, moistening the dry lips, before he turned back to the game. Men at bat, 3-1, bases empty, two outs. “But how can that be the same man?”

“Say what you will about Tony, but he always does the right thing, well the best thing, in the end.” Phil put his hand on Steve’s leg, letting it rest there as he watched the players scramble, but eventually work together. Throughout the game, other classmates joined them in the seats. Their cover was retold, and eventually they had both added some embellishments. Phil kissed Steve first, technically true after last night, Steve had made dinner their second date but it hadn't turned out. They had gotten take out from a Chinese place from Steve’s neighborhood. 

Eventually the players gave up, somewhere around inning 7, shy of a full game, but the men were being buried, 11-4. Phil seemed to remember the female pitcher getting a full ride scholarship for her game, but he couldn’t quite recall if it was her or not. Either way, she had played spectacularly.

For lunch they found a quaint little deli that Steve had seen an article on. They ordered some food, Phil was delighted to find that they had Monte Cristos. It was hard finding a good one, but they managed to live up to his expectations. The main attraction about the place, was it’s homeyness. It felt loving and inviting. The furniture was over stuffed and comfortable, and there was a fireplace that added to the feel in the colder times. Phil wouldn’t have minded a fire then, but it probably would have been overpowering later in the afternoon. He decided though, that he ought to talk about the plans for the night with Steve. 

“I’m having dinner with my mother at five tonight, before the slideshow/dance. I wasn’t planning on staying for the dance, so don’t worry too much about that.” Phil stated, dipping his last bite of sandwich into jam.

“Do you want me to go with you, to dinner?” Steve asked, before taking a small bite of his own meal. Phil had planned not taking him. His mother knew whenever he was lying as a child, but he felt bad because Steve would be stuck at the hotel.

“Do you want to go?” Phil glanced at Steve, who politely nodded his head as he chewed his bite. “Because you can. If you want. I just hadn’t thought you would want to. I mean, it’s just my mom. I’ll be safe alone.” Phil’s phone rang then, hopefully ending his flow of progressively worse things to say. As he checked the caller ID, he felt like he should be worried. He connected the call, and pressed the phone to his ear. “Hi Ma.”

“Don’t you ‘Hi Ma,’ me, Phillip Jehoshaphat Coulson!”

“That’s not even my middle name.”

“Why did I have to hear that you brought a boyfriend with you from Marissa? He better be coming to dinner.” Phil nodded warily. “I can’t hear your brain rattlin’ boy!”

“Yes mother, he’ll be at dinner, I had wanted to surprise you.” Apparently this did the trick, as her next words were significantly calmer.

“Oh. Well, I’ll see you then. Love you.”

“Love you Ma. See you at dinner.” As Phil restowed his phone, he looked to Steve, who seemed to be in awe of the conversation. “You’re coming to dinner, if you hadn’t guessed. Then we have to break up before my mother comes for her next visit. I don’t really get out of New York for things not work related, so my mother comes out to when she wants to see me. It’s easier, in case... of work emergencies. I haven’t been here in a very long time.”

“Why would we have to break up?” Phil felt his face flush, and realization dawned in Steve’s face. “Right. Because,” he gestured between them. “Not real. Right. But if it’s soon after we get back, and there’s no emergency for me... I could help you out. I mean. If you’re not dating anyone else then.”

Phil’s throat became exceptionally dry. He sipped as his drink while trying not to cough. After he regained part of his dignity he spoke. “I think it’d be easier to end it early rather than to continue the illusion too long.” His plate was empty, giving him no escape to push around food on his plate. His hands were nervous balls of energy having nothing to keep them occupied, without reaching out to touch the other man. Their waiter came then, taking their plates. “So back to the hotel until dinner? We could catch up on our books.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Coming from the original Man With A Plan, that meant the world to Phil.

At the hotel, it was a different story. Someone, not cleaning related, had been in their room. It wasn’t ransacked like in the movies. Whoever it had been, was methodical. One or two goals in mind. A sweep of the room revealed that they had left audio bugs. Phil’s bookmark in his spy novel had been moved, they had apparently been interested. It disturbed Phil slightly that he had similar taste to whoever had been there. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Phil dialed his phone connecting him to Clint. “Need you. Echo-Foxtrot-Hotel-Kilo-Niner.”

“Team will be there quick as a flash, sir.” The team would sweep the entire room, but they couldn’t stay there for the night. This hotel was booked, and the rest of town was probably was too. Phil knew there was an easy solution, but he was reluctant to take it. When the team from the night before showed up without their injured leader, they ushered the men out of the room. The hotel had a gym, so Phil took his book, and Steve let out a bit of stress with the equipment. Finding his spot in the book wasn’t too tough, and he jumped back into the story. Agent James Sutton and Agent Tony DeCicco had just been kidnapped. They were bound at their hands, and locked in a cell. He read as their captors began to torture only one of the men, leaving the other one sweating as he continued to refuse to talk. Then suddenly when the agents were alone, the injured one proclaimed his feelings, and that he wished for a kiss before he died. Phil’s eyes unfocused as he lingered on the words. He had pulled a book at random off the shelves of the largest New and Used bookstore, and it was a gay romance novel about spies. How did he not see that coming from the cover?

_“You’re not going to die Sutton,” said Tony softly, sitting next to the prone man. “But you can have that kiss.” The men embraced, lips clamoring for dominance, blood staining the injured man’s lips, but Tony’s tongue still swiped against the lip gently but firm---_

Steve was suddenly standing in front of Phil, sweat glistening on his forehead before he brushed it away. “Hey, your book that good? Maybe I should borrow it.” Phil felt his face grow hot again.

“I’m not sure if you’d like it,” Phil looked at his book, and discovered he didn’t have a lot of it left. “But I have some at home I could lend you. My home. In New York.” Steve flashed a smile, before sitting next to Phil. “You should shower before dinner. since you’re all sweaty now.” The other man let out a chuckle before his eyes flicked towards the words in Phil’s book. Phil closed the pages tightly around his fingers, but the blush on Steve’s face meant he had seen enough.

“Can I borrow that book anyway when we get back?”Phil nodded slipping his bookmark into it’s home. One of Barton’s team interrupted the silence not too long after, inviting them back to their room.

When they got back, one of the agents had set up camp, laptop in front of him as he sat at a desk. The other agents were loosely gathered around him. “Three audio bugs. One video camera positioned at the bed... Not sure if they’re all new, but it looks like it. Tracking the signal now. Home office says you need to file a IWOAM-7 and find somewhere else to stay tonight. We need this room tonight.” Steve slipped off to hit the shower, while Phil packed everything up, but taking out the grey blue sweater for wearing to his mother’s house. It was a nice sweater, and it fit him snugly. He was glad it passed Natasha’s seemingly random guidelines for appropriate clothing for this mission. After getting a list of hotels in the area, he began dialing them.

SHIELD agents had certain requirements for hotels, that often made it difficult to find somewhere to stay. None of the big name chains were allowed, but neither were any small bed and breakfasts. Nothing too sketchy, but the rules were thrown out if you were surveilling someone to their hotel and needed somewhere specific. It left Phil a pretty long list in Portland and surrounding areas, but all of the ones he called while Steve was showering were full. He continued calling for about an hour before Steve interrupted him.

“Why don’t we just stay with your mother?”

There were a million reasons, or at least five important ones. None of them formed solidly enough in Phil’s mind for him to communicate them. Instead he was left quoting his mother. “Because I said so.” _Smooth_ he thought to himself.

“Yeah Coulson just take him back to your place,” said one of the agents conspiratorially. Steve stretched out one hand, placing it on Phil’s shoulder.

“It can’t be any worse than roughing it in the car, can it?” He was half tempted to argue that point.

“I’ll ask her, but no promises.” He stepped out into the hallway for a modicum of privacy before calling his mother again. “Ma, there’s an issue with the hotel, can we stay there tonight?”

“Of course you can Phillip! I’ll make your bed up for you... do I need to make up the spare bed?” For some reason the thought of sleeping alone, without Steve was maddeningly depressing. He shook his head at the thoughts.

“It’d be nice.”

“Well, I turned that room into a craft area, so tough.”

“Mom is my Captain America poster still hanging up?” He really hoped the answer was no. He wanted to get through this with as much dignity as possible.

“Yes..?”

“Can you take it down? And not mention it or the man at all tonight?”

“Are you embarrassed about your first crush Philly?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out at dinner. See you soon Ma.”

“Love you son.” It was decided then. He’d be sleeping in his old room. The bed where his Captain America action figures had fought off Nazis. The room where he’d had a disastrous first kiss. Mostly because he’d cried afterwards. Apparently girls don’t like it if you cry when you kiss them. Where he carefully taped up a first printing war bonds poster. His hands went automatically to adjust a nonexistent tie. He caught himself, and took a deep breath before reentering the room. The SHIELD agents were milling around the one with a laptop. Steve was packing his things into his duffel bag. After they got everything they had brought, and Phil had put on his sweater they left for his mother’s house.

 

Carolyn Coulson didn’t accept half truths from her son growing up, but as he was an adult, she knew he needed some secrets for himself. It just seemed like he had more than strictly needful. After he was done with the military, his replacement job had been even more demanding. He rarely took vacations, and didn’t generally leave New York when he did take time off. She came to visit him more often than the other way around. She couldn’t rightly remember the last time he’d been in her home. Now he had brought home a boyfriend. Were they intending to make use of New York’s new freedoms? Her dinner was simmering in a crockpot, leaving her time to make Phil’s room up. New bedding, blankets, and the removal of his beloved poster. She put it in his closet, and returned to the kitchen. She put a pot of noodles on, before there was a knock at the door. On seeing her son’s boyfriend she recognized him immediately and promptly slammed the door in shock.


	6. In which, things are discovered which were probably better left undiscovered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You'd think being kidnapped would be the highlight of the weekend.

Sighing, Phil knocked on the door again, shrugging to Steve. It was unclear to him why his mother had slammed the door, but Phil had a feeling it was his ‘boyfriend.’ Slowly, the door opened again, his mother was there again, hair flatter than the first time she had opened it. From his youth he remembered her smoothing her hair in times of nervousness. “Ma, this is my boyfriend, Steve Rogers.” Her eyes widened, full of wonder. “Can we come in , or is dinner on the porch?” His mother waved them in shutting the door behind them.

“Phillip, set the table. Steve, come tell me why you’re the spittin’ image of a deadman.” Wandering through the unchanged hallways was eerie. Everything looked older, but it was still the same layout. In the kitchen, his mother stirred the boiling pot, while Steve stammered a truthful explanation. Fury had forgotten to get him to sign a nondisclosure form yet, which meant Steve could tell his mother a lot of things. Looking through the cupboards, he found the plates reserved for company, and got them out. They weren’t spectacular china, just the nice pattern his mother had picked out long ago, and she had kept four plates from the set. It was one of the few reminders he had of his father in the house. A suit hanging in a closet, a china set from a wedding present, and Phil himself were all clear signs a man had been here. Carolyn had been reluctant to volunteer any answers, and Phil hadn’t asked any questions.

Silver was next, but Phil got the regular utensils from their drawer. Steve’s cheeks were tinged with pink as Phil entered the kitchen. Phil had missed something when he had been setting the plates. As Phil got the silverware and cups, Steve carried the hot crockpot into the dining room. The lid slipped across the top, sending a meaty, rich, scent through the air. Following Steve, Phil set out the silverware and cups before peeking into the crock pot. There was a velvety red sauce and colorful bell peppers at first glance. That left a few possibilities, but Phil hurried back into the kitchen trying not to think about it. Standing at the sink, his mother drained some pasta, and put it into a bowl for serving. She handed the bowl to Steve to take into the dining room, and shut the kitchen door behind him. “Phillip Coulson, you tell that man you love him, or I will. I can tell you’re on that part of the relationship, teetering around that word, phrase even. His eyes shine when he talks about you. Tell him son.” Without warning, she threw the door open and stepped through. For once in his life, his mother didn’t know everything about his relationships at a glance. They weren’t in that part of a relationship, or a relationship at all. Coulson didn’t stop to think about why he didn’t tell himself that the love part was wrong as well as he took his seat next to Steve in the dining room. Facing his mother had never been so terrifying. Not even ten years ago when he had blurted out that he was gay. Especially since his mother’s response had been, “I know, eat your dinner.”

Their story was brought out once again. A coffee date to start, then a semi-ruined dinner, followed by Phil kissing Steve first. The part about them working together was a bit harder to dance around. It was true that Captain America could say anything. The cover job Phil had was imperative to be kept intact. They managed to point towards a gala Tony had done for charity work shortly after Loki’s rampage for their first meeting. Steve had attended, not as Captain America, but as a nameless handsome face. In reality Phil hadn’t attended, but it kept his low-level government job intact. Carolyn simpered at the details. Phil dished himself a second helping of his mother’s swiss steak. The tender meat bathed in tomato sauce tasted very much of home to him. It had been a favorite growing up, and he suspected it was a ploy to keep him happy and quiet. As it was, it was doing it’s job.

“Sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable, with the one bed situation,” Carolyn apologized. Steve shook his head.

“It’s okay, we slept together last night.” Phil steeled his gaze, as his mother smiled widely.

“Way to go Phil.”

“We shared a bed mother, nothing else.”

“Yet.”

Phil choked on the bite of food he had been in the process of swallowing. He managed to stop spluttering to let out an indignant, “Ma!”

“You might not be able to make me any grandkids, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try.”  
Both men were blushing heavily, and Phil rubbed at the back of his neck. His mother had been keening for grandchildren for quite a while.

“Pretty sure that there’s been some scientific breakthroughs recently. Tony might’ve been bragging about stem cell research into male made eggs...” Steve said quietly. “I’m not even sure what that means, but my brain kept a hold on that phrase.” Stark industries had been doing more medical research recently, so it wouldn’t be surprising if they had managed to do that, but Phil took a mental note to ask Stark about that when they got back. The man never told him what he was up to.

After dinner they put their bags away in Phil’s old room. Thankfully the poster had been removed, and it hadn’t been discovered while they settled a little in the room. A queen sized bed took up a good portion of the room. In his earlier years, his mother traded him beds so he could host more comfortable sleepovers. Course she had tried taking it back when he reached his teenage years, but she had realized that it wouldn’t be that necessary on her own. Tucking away their bags, Phil grabbed his book. Slideshows aren’t all that exciting for the most part, so he figured he might need something to keep him interested. Steve looked at the bed closely. “It’ll be a little cozier, but still plenty of room.”

Phil remembered that the other man had spread out diagonally this morning. Hopefully, it was only because of an ample amount of room presented to him. Of course, if they were entwined in the morning he would extract himself carefully before Steve awoke, to preserve his dignity. He smoothed the front of his sweater, settling it back down. Steve took him by the hand before leading him back out into the house. Carolyn was in the kitchen putting up leftovers, and they said a quick goodbye. She convinced them to take a picture, that hopefully didn’t look as awkward as it felt to Phil. 

Back at the gym, they found new seats, by a few students that Phil did not recall as well as he should. The lights were low, to help them focus on the projector’s display. The bubbly woman who had checked them all in stood in front of it waiting for something. After a few minutes of stilted conversation, she welcomed them all to the slideshow. The slideshow incorporated awful music from their high school years. Steve would be educated on pop music at a later date if Phil could help it. But suddenly there was a few slides from a halloween party that Phil remembered being dragged to by Marissa. He prayed fervently, but his prayers were answered as a photo of him dressed in a WW2 military uniform, which wasn’t as bad as he remembered. But he heard a whisper from Steve that revealed he had seen the name on the shirt.

“Barnes?” His voice didn’t sound angry, so Phil hazarded a look towards Steve. Steve’s eyes were wide, his mouth a small ‘o’ face still turned towards the screen. Taking Steve’s hand, Phil rested their hands on Steve’s thigh. Ghosting his thumb across the other man’s hand, Phil tried to take his mind off of the friend he had lost so long ago, and yet so recently. Eventually the show was over and a smattering of applause went up around the gym. “You were Bucky?”

“Every year. I was never really a leader as a kid. Had to grow into that.” The others at the table stood now, before heading over to the dance area. “He was a hero, just like you, and he was your best friend. Why wouldn’t I want to be him?” A slow big band number started up then, much to everyone’s confusion. Steve perked up at it though, and stood. “Do you know this one?”

Steve nodded, and put his hand out politely. “Phil, do you wanna dance before we cut out? You’ll have to lead though, never had a chance to learn.” Phil took his hand and led him out onto the floor. He found a corner for them to sway in, away from too many eyes. He arranged Steve’s hand on his waist, as Phil always liked being held. They moved with the song, until it abruptly turned into some ACDC song. Steve smiled down at him, until they broke apart, heading back out to the parking lot. Before they left they were intercepted by Marissa, glass of something alcoholic Phil guessed.

“Hey boys. Leaving so early? Is there an after party somewhere?” It was definetly not her first glass as she stood a little unstable on her heels. She braced herself, by settling her free hand on Phil’s shoulder. It wasn’t all that foreign a sensation, she had placed her hand there before, but now it felt wrong. She downed her glass, putting it down on a nearby table. Slipping her hand into her purse, she edged out the nose of a gun barrel. “Boys, boys, boys, I’m so upset I have to burn this identity.”

“I’m sorry. I only like being kidnapped once a weekend.” Phil stated, trying to calmly slip his hand into his pocket.

“I thought you were a cellist.” Steve said, ruffled. She pushed them towards the entrance.

“Even evil people have free time. Didn’t your own Black Widow spend time as a Prima Ballerina before her SHIELD days? Well, she was one of ours then, and it was mission related... I digress, it was for appearance’s sake. We could gather information covertly while I was _dating_ Phil, but now that you’re in the picture Captain, looks like that line of inquiry is shut for good. That’s why we tried to take you last night.” Phil’s hands were rapidly dialing Barton this time, no need to go through Fury when he knew the man on the ground here.

Steve led them through the parking lot as she talked them through to the vehicle waiting for them. This time however, it was a black unmarked van. A few men opened up the back of the van, and helped them into it. Inside there were a total of five AIM agents, six total including Marissa. “This is a bit more serious than last time.” Steve said, as he turned to be handcuffed.

“Last time, you two went docilely, but still escaped, and captured our agent. Now we have one for trading, and one for intelligence.” Marissa said calmly. Phil put his hands in a similar position, as it stood six trained enemies in such a small area was not worth fighting with cavalry on the way. She tightened the cuffs more than was needful before forcing Phil to stand next to Steve. “Frank, empty their pockets.” One of her goons approached them, roughly removing everything from their pockets. Soon, two cellphones, two wallets, a sketchpad, lay on the floor. Phil goggled at a condom that he definitely did not bring. Steve was flushed in the cheeks, before he sat down on the van floor. He joined him, trying not to stare at him. It was strange, no matter how many times you get kidnapped, it’s different. Marissa sat in the front with the driver, the rest of the men played rock-paper-scissors over the remaining two seats, with Frank and another one sitting on the floor in the back with them, guns pointed.

“We’ve got to stop doing this for dates,” Steve murmurs when they take off. Phil finds himself nodding in agreement, before he reminds himself that after this weekend there would be no more dates, if they both made out okay. Well, perhaps that wasn’t the best phrase to use. “So, Frank, how’d you end up in this business?” Steve asked, before Marissa whipped her head around.

“No fraternizing!”

“Can I tell them about the time you---”

“NO!”

Phil shrank back, leaning up against the wall of the van. Hopefully Clint’s team would find them soon. He sat back and memorized the turns they were taking, mapping a route back to where they had been. Eventually the van stopped, and Marissa and the driver got out. The two men sitting down unbuckled, before sliding into the back. Steve stood first stepping in front of Phil when they were both on their feet. The AIM men opened the doors in the back and nudged them towards the door. It was dark out, but Phil recognized the area he was in. He turned his head towards his phone laying on the floor still, and he shouted the street at the phone. Frank clocked him across the face with his weapon, and Phil swayed on his feet. One of the other agents picked up his phone, and cancelled his call. There was definitely going to be a bruise there tomorrow. Suddenly there came a call from outside, or rather a noise a hawk would make. Steve stepped out of the van first, Phil following and the second the four AIM soldiers stepped out of the van, it dissolved into chaos. A flashbang came sailing through the air, and Phil shut his eyes before dropping to his knees.

It only takes a few seconds for everything to normalize. To everyone on the ground it feels longer. Clint’s men are led by Kate Bishop, stunner tipped arrows finding their glorious marks. Steve sways ahead of him, the blast making him unsteady as his inner ear is off. It was easier if you weren't handcuffed, or if you weren't trying to escape your captors. Once again, Phil and Steve were rescued in the nick of time by Hawkeye. Just a different one this time. Marissa came around the van, weapon in hand. She put her arm up to aim at Steve's back, but Phil stood up forcefully, pushing his shoulder into her arm, the shot rang out, before one of Kate's arrows arrived.

The driver had been taken out by one of the other strike team members, and no one was injured by Marissa's bullet. After their handcuffs were removed Steve and Phil thanked Kate and the team Retrieving their personal effects, they managed to get a ride back to the school so they could get the car. When Phil slid into the car, he locked the doors behind them. Steve chuckled at the click of the locks. "That kind of night isn't it?"

"I'll be glad when we're tucked into our bed tonight." Unbidden images flooded Phil's thoughts after he had said that, images of the two men lying closely together. He focused closer on the road, missing the ghost of a smile on Steve's lips.

It was late when they managed to get back to his mother's house. Carolyn had stayed up in the living room, waiting to see how dishevelled the two of them were. Sighing, she looked to Steve, "Didn't use my gift then?" Phil took that moment to drag his fake boyfriend upstairs to his bedroom. Well that explained the condoms then. He took out a change of clothes for sleeping and his toiletries.

"I'm going to shower. Been a long night. The bathroom's the next door down." Steve nodded as he opened up his sketchbook to do some drawing before he slept. He had seen a lot that day, he would have much to choose from. Phil smiled as he slipped out, seeing the man at work.

After he'd showered and rebandaged himself, Phil went back to his bedroom. In the hallway he passed his mother who gave him a quick thumbs up. He laughed quickly at that, before he entered the room. Steve had been in the middle of changing, shirt off, pants open, with his belt dangling undone, his hands at his waist to take them off. They locked eyes, before Phil turned around to face the door. "Sorry. I should have knocked." He heard a ruffling sound of fabric hitting floor, and then Steve's voice.

"You can turn around, I was planning on sleeping in my boxers again." Reluctantly, Phil turned to be met with such a sight, Steve stood, still such a perfectly enhanced physique after his years in the ice. Forcing his eyes upwards, he met Steve’s gaze. Steve slipped awkwardly out of his pants pooled around his feet, breaking their staring match for a moment. “Is this okay? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. It’s just, I didn’t pack any pajamas really, and your mom thinks... things.”

There was a myriad of reasons why Phil should offer Steve some pants. One happened to be prolonging his sanity, through the removal of sexual frustration from being so readily available in front of him. Instead of answering he just coughed before ignoring the question. “I think I’ll turn in. Kidnappings make me sleepy. And cranky, but mostly sleepy. You can keep the lamp on your side on.” Steve nodded, and continued standing in his position at the foot of the bed. His sketchpad was on the far side of the bed, so Phil laid down on the closer side, turning towards the wall. After he slowed his breathing down, and kept his eyes closed for quite awhile, Steve went back to sketching, and Phil eventually drifted off to the sound of a pencil repeatedly scratching the surface of the textured paper. It was a long day, and it was only fair that he got a good night’s rest before returning home and losing his boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And you'd be right! Depending on your idea of a highlight.


	7. In which, everyone goes home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end from Steve's point of view. Or the beginning. Or both.

Steve woke to an empty bed. It wasn’t unusual, he woke alone every morning at home. Today he had been sharing a bed with someone, and the lack of his presence made him feel alone. Listening, he let down his wall letting his field of hearing extend further into the house. There was a shower running, and Steve could hear the water hitting Phil’s skin, and as his skin slid over more skin, Steve’s name came from Phil’s lips in a breathy rush. Steve listens for the kitchen, throwing his will power into turning away from the bathroom, blood rushing to his face. Carolyn’s preparations were relaxing taking away the embarrassment of hearing something so personal. The sound of bacon frying made Steve’s stomach growl. Slowly pulling back, he brought his range of hearing into the room. Slipping out of the blankets, he noticed that he had migrated sides sometime during the night. Tugging on clothes, Steve gets dressed enough for breakfast and he walks down the hallway to the kitchen.

Carolyn’s a picture of a long forgotten America, and it feels like home to Steve. Her hair’s piled upon the top of her head, her polka dot apron neatly tied behind her back. Turning the bacon, she looks up at him. “Steven, come here, I want to talk before you fly out today.” He approached the stove, but stood by the in front of the counter to the right of the stove. He waited by the woman’s elbow, watching her skillful cooking as she started the pancakes. “You grew up in a very different time. Different from my age. What drew you to my son that overcame the way... that was treated then?”

Steve swallowed deeply, picking his words carefully. “We’re cut from the same cloth. We’re men who don’t like bullies, and were often forced to face them. Our mothers are strong women, who raised us through all of our difficulties. He’s an excellent man, and I’m very lucky to have found him.” The words rang true to Steve’s ears, and he realized they were true. They were similar men from different ages. She smiled at his words, and the creases at her eyes curved with her happiness. The bathroom door creaked open then, and Phil came to the kitchen.

“Ma, is it okay if, oh. Hey you.” Phil stopped at the sight of Steve in the kitchen.

Steve smiled at Phil. “Hey you.”

“Is it okay if we take off right after breakfast?” 

“Phillip, didn’t you shower last night?” Carolyn asked. Phil ducked his head, and his cheeks shone with a blush.

“Today’s going to be a long day, I wanted to freshen up before the flight.” Steve knew that wasn’t the only reason, but he stayed silent watching the mother and son. There were undercurrents between them, a silent conversation made up of eyebrow quirks. Phil looked tired of the conversation.

“Any hot water left?” Steve asked. At Phil’s slow nod, Steve smiled. “I’ll go take a quick one.” Instinctively, he pressed a kiss to the man’s cheek. “Be right back.”

The shower was warm, but Steve hurried through it, thinking of the food in the kitchen, and of the man. But why was he thinking about Phil? Stepping out of the shower, Steve dried his hair with a towel. Why had he kissed him before in the kitchen? It had felt right at the time. Now it felt different, thinking about it now a warm heat settled in his stomach. A warmth that hadn’t been there since Peggy. Putting his thoughts out of his mind, he pulled on his clothes. There was no time for that train of thought.

In the kitchen, Phil and Carolyn had a glorious spread in front of them. Pancakes, bacon, eggs, and an array of syrups. They had dished up plates, but had waited for Steve. “Look’s great Carolyn.” Steve dished up his own plate, and they all dug in. Grabbing one of the syrups, he poured it, violet liquid pouring out faster than he had expected. When he took his first bite, it was delicious. The blueberry syrup was sweet but also complex. They talked of their plans for when they got back. Phil was still on light duty, so he wasn’t really supposed to be working, he glossed over why he was on light duty for his mother’s sake. He was planning to sneak into the more important meetings with Fury. Steve didn’t know of any impending apocalypses, so he’d planned of chaperoning Bruce and Tony’s research. Carolyn’s week was full of teaching classes at a community center.

“Phillip I was thinking about taking some time off and coming up to New York for Thanksgiving. Do you think that will be fine?” November, Steve could be free then. Even if Phil thought they shouldn’t be fake dating then, Steve hoped he could convince Phil to be really dating by then. He put his free hand on Phil’s thigh, letting it rest above his knee, and just enjoying the odd little looks Phil gave him. After breakfast, they gathered their bags, and headed to the airport.

“Steve, thank you so much for helping this weekend. I’m sorry Fury ordered you to.” Steve smiled.

“Fury didn’t make me. I volunteered.” Steve had walked in while Fury had a roster of male SHIELD agents he had been looking over to pick out a boyfriend for Phil. Glancing at them, Steve made a comment about how all of them were blond, and Fury had made an offhand remark about Phil having a type. Fury had explained the mission, and Steve had volunteered then and there. A glint of something had shone in NIck’s good eye, but Steve hadn’t thought too hard about it. 

Now he wondered if Fury had set them up. 

Steve needed to get that man a fruit basket.

Getting through airport security was easy, and they sat comfortably in the terminal. Phil read through his spy book as they sat. Pulling out his sketchbook, he drew Phil as secretly as he could. The other man was so relaxed now. It had been a long wearisome weekend. Now they had a chance to catch their breath, and Phil looked like he was actually enjoying his vacation. Perhaps it was that book he was reading. As Steve put the last touches on Phil, the real thing shifted in his seat and crossed his legs. A woman across the way from them lit up.

“Oh I love that book. I love that they find love in such a hard situation. Even if it was under their noses the whole time.” She clasped her hands together. “It’s so romantic.” Steve peered over to see where Phil was in the book. He caught the words, ‘ _thrust diligently_ ’ before he changed his mind about looking. Phil was reading about two men having sex surrounded by strangers. Apparently he was fairly well trained, because Steve couldn’t imagine keeping such a passive face in that situation. “Is this your boyfriend?” Phil’s mouth quirked, but he didn’t say anything.

“I am his boyfriend.” Steve volunteered, putting his hand on the thigh that was raised up, as that leg was resting on the other one. The other man’s leg was warm and firm beneath his touch. Phil shifted again.

“I’ll let you get back to it, the ending’s really... big.”

The nice woman went back to reading her own book, and Steve decided she’d look good on paper next to Phil. As he finished up her sketch, it was time to board. Once they found their seats, they relaxed. It was a smaller plane, and they slid into their row to themselves. In the air, Steve put up the armrest, letting his hand wander over to Phil’s thigh again, slightly higher this time. This kind of touch was not as casual as the other ones had been this weekend. As he left his hand there, Phil covered it with his own squeezing it. They carried on that way for the rest of the flight making Steve exceedingly happy.

When they arrived, the day was ending. Phil drove Steve to his SHIELD furnished apartment, before heading home himself. Steve had asked him up for coffee, but Phil declined. It had been a long weekend and he needed to get ready for tomorrow. Unpacking went quickly for Steve, and he did his laundry. Tomorrow he would need to check on Tony, but all he wanted to do was to see Phil again.

Tony and Bruce’s lab was a mess. Neither man was there, but there were several pieces of men’s clothing strewn about. “Jarvis, where’s your boss?”

“If you are referring to Tony, he’s nursing a bit of a hangover on his floor.”

“Will I regret asking where Bruce is at?”

“Mister Banner is in the basement level one, trying to do laundry or steal some cleaner clothing. Shall I inform them of your presence?”

“Yes. Have they been having more scuffles?”

“No sir. But, I believe a SHIELD agent is here to check up on them today.”

“Anyone we know?”

“Phillip Coulson.” Steve’s heart skipped a beat. A bleary eyed, cranky, unsteady Tony dragged himself into the lab.

“Good morning Sleeping Beauty.” Steve quipped. Sometimes it was good to out-Tony Tony. 

“Right back atcha. Monday already?” Tony eyed the clothes lying about the lab, and sniffed a shirt. “Clean enough.” As Tony took off his shirt, Bruce and Phil came in together. Steve smiled as he caught Phil’s eye and felt his stomach tie itself in knots. Phil turned away to look at Tony.

“We interrupt something?” Bruce asks adjusting his glasses.

“Just changing. I think I feel like this shirt today.” Tony pulled it on, swaying a little. “What brings you by here Agent?”

“Fury wanted me to bring by some paperwork. I opened it with Bruce in the elevator. It’s Lorem Ipsum.” Phil sat down resigned at one of the stools. Steve walked over to stand in the man’s space.

“Do you want to get coffee?” Steve asked, feeling lame. He just wanted their first date... to be their first date.

“Why don’t we all go?” asked Tony, “I could use a cup this morning. Also aspirin.” Steve his eyes. Sometimes he hated that man.

“I... I meant.” Steve stammered gracelessly. His heart was beating faster than normal for him. “I meant as a date.” He finished.

Everyone was quiet for a moment, and Steve opened his eyes slowly. Phil looked very confused. Reaching out, Steve tilted Phil’s face up with one hand. His thumb skimmed over the smooth skin of the man’s cheek. He pressed a quick kiss to Phil’s lips, but as he went to pull away, Phil brought up a hand to the nape of Steve’s neck, fingers carding through the hair there. Phil used that hand to crush their lips together. When they were finally finished Phil let go, and they turned back to the other two men. Tony was shocked, mouth slightly open. Bruce was calmly smirking to himself.

“Congratulations sirs. Tony, I believe you owe me two hours of debugging work,” if an artificial intelligence could be smug, Jarvis was in that moment.

“Did you keep the present from my mother?” Phil was out of breath, and Steve liked it. Steve had put it in his nightstand, hoping.

“Yes, but we’ll use it a different day. Boys, if you tell the rest of the team before we do, we’ll make things awful for you.”

“Yes sir!” Tony mock saluted. “Does Coulson call you sir?”

“You’ll just have to wonder Stark. Goodbye.” Phil put his hand in Steve’s and led them out of the room. “Let’s get coffee... and donuts. Lots of donuts.” Steve knew that the next reunion they’d go to, they’d tell the same story, of how it all started with a coffee date.


End file.
